


I am a Thousand Winds That Blow

by PlethoraOfCreatures



Series: The Elemental Saga [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bullying, Child Abuse, Don't Judge Me, Fist Fights, Gen, I don't know about actual legal processes, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inspired by Poetry, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Police, Supernatural Elements, Trials, We Die Like Men, Wind ain't having no shit, legal stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-09 20:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18645880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlethoraOfCreatures/pseuds/PlethoraOfCreatures
Summary: Rain had told me about Sam Lancost. Evidently, she wasn't lying about this extraordinary boy.She might have been understating it a bit. He wasn't dealt a kind hand by Fate.This is our story.





	1. A Brawl

**Author's Note:**

> Add later Im in a rush

With what Rain told me, I was almost ready for anything in the mortal world that had to do with this Sam Lancost. Or, well, that’s what I thought. 

I was not prepared for a landing in the middle of a brawl in the police station. 

Maybe I should back up. 

I landed with a gust of wind and looked around me. Or rather, I should say that I landed as a gust of wind. I had no body, as was the standard for me and my sisters. 

My aim was better than usual, as I was only a short distance from the station, rather than four miles away. 

I moved over to the front glass doors with a trail of skittering leaves and looked inside. 

Arguing with the people at the front desk was a large, red faced man. I assumed that this was the man Rain had said was looking for Sam, and thus was his father. 

He wasn’t a pretty sight, with food and drink stains on his clothes and his eyes bulging in his now alarmingly red face. He slammed his fist on the desk and the woman behind the desk didn’t flinch. Instead, her eyes grew hard and she called to someone over her shoulder. 

A man opened a door and walked out into the lobby and looked at the scene before him. I guess that this was Officer Ted Collins. 

He surveyed the man before him with a look of utter disdain. I decided I liked him. 

He said something to the man calmly, but it seemed that the man didn’t take it that way. 

He started to scream, as I could now hear a little bit of what he was saying. 

“No… Right to… I know… He’s here… My kid… None of…. Business!”

Collins didn’t scream back, but continued to speak calmly to the man. It only enraged him further, as he then charged toward Collins with fists swinging. 

What then happened next was one of the greatest fights that I had seen. Not for its length, but rather for the pure satisfaction of seeing Collins take down the man. 

Collins ducked the charge and kicked out at the man’s knees, sending him down. The man was up in an instant, and shoved Collins over to the glass doors. He threw him into the doors, and they chipped and cracked, allowing me to blow in. 

As I swirled in to rest behind the other officers, I continued to view the fight, but just as interesting was the expressions on the other peoples’ faces. 

The weren’t doing anything to aid Collins, but if looks could kill, the man that Collins was fighting wouldn’t have enough left of him to be swept into a small pile of ash. 

I looked at them some more, fascinated. I didn’t know humans could hold so much emotion. There seemed to be a steady stream of concentrated hate directed at the man, yet they all seemed to share an understanding that the man was Collins’ to fight. 

He threw Collins again, this time to the ground, and he reached back a fist, preparing to punch Collins, but he never got the chance, as Collins grabbed his foot and pulled towards himself. 

The man fell forward and Collins rolled away from his falling bulk. He quickly put a knee on the man’s back preventing him from rising, cuffed his hands behind his back. 

He dragged the cuffed man up and two other uniformed people helped him put the man in what looked like a holding cell. Collins sighed, and rolled his neck. 

“Well,” he said. “Sam wasn’t kidding. He’s a mean one.” 

Suddenly, the door that Collins came from opened, and a teenaged boy stepped out. This was Sam. 

“Was that my father?” he asked. “I heard him yelling from behind the door.”

“Damn straight,” Collins said cheerfully. “He just gave himself a nice little assault charge too.”

Sam nodded, staring at the cracked glass doors. “I gathered.” He turned to the rest of the people gathered behind Collins. “Where is he now?”

A woman came out of the same door that Sam did. She must be Officer Carting. 

“I don’t think you need to worry about that anymore, Sam,” she said. 

Sam raised an eyebrow at her. “I make it a point of knowing where the equivalent of my own personal version of the Kingpin is,” he said dryly. 

I didn’t get the reference, but the people around me laughed a little. 

“Does that make us the Russians or the 15th Precinct?” one muttered. 

“I would rather the Russians. I don’t want to run the risk that some of us are corrupt.” One muttered back. 

“I don’t want to be the mob either,” the first said. “But, oh well. Sucks to suck.”

“He’s in a holding cell,” said Collins. “And he’ll stay there until we can get him into the actual jail, and then hopefully he’ll rot there for the rest of his life.”  

I liked Collins. He seemed to dislike the man as much as me and Rain. The rest would have to wait to meet him until they could say the same. He was something you had to see for yourself. 


	2. Paperwork. Now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam relaxes a bit more at the station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I don't know. I'll have more plot, I swear.

Sam sighed and looked more tired than I had ever seen anyone. Not tired as in about to go to sleep, but tired as in he was relieved to be handing off a burden to someone else. 

“Well, that’s great but we still have to file that report,” said Sam. 

Collins groaned dramatically. “I hate paperwork,” he said. But all the same, he walked over to the front desk and took out a clipboard and some sheets of paper. 

“On the bright side,” he said, “I also now have to file a report too. So you won’t be stuck here writing alone for hours.”

“Joy,” Sam said. 

“Was that sarcasm on top of sarcasm?” asked Collins.

“I am officially a part of the National Sarcasm Society,” said Sam, taking a small bow. “It’s one of my many talents.”

“That’s an actual thing?” Collins looked impressed. “I thought that it was just a T-shirt.” 

“It’s unofficial,” said Sam. “But you’ll know if they send you a pin in the mail.” 

“Sarcasm,” interrupted Officer Carting, “Is not the point of the  _ paperwork _ you’re supposed to be filling out, guys.” She said it as she was smiling though, and took out any bite it would’ve had.

“As far as I'm concerned, sarcasm is always relevant,” quipped Collins. “Just like Shakespeare and bacon, Olivia.”

They had obviously gone through this routine many times before.

Officer Carting, or Olivia, rolled her eyes. “It's the unholy three,” she said. “Sarcasm, Shakespeare, and bacon.”

“Did they send you a pin in the mail?” asked Sam, sounding impressed. “That was one of the best performances of classic sarcasm that I have ever seen.” 

“They did,” Olivia said with a smile. “It's framed in my office.” 

Sam’s smile fell slightly. “Mine's back in my room,” he said. “I didn't exactly have time to grab it before my father got the hammer and started to try to break down the door.”

“He tried to break down your door?” asked Collins incredulously. 

“I noped out of there pretty quick,” said Sam. “I guess he got through and looked around my room for me. He must have been pretty drunk to not notice the open window that I climbed out of for so long.”

This caused Olivia to raise an eyebrow. “You climbed out of a window?” she asked dryly. “And  _ noped _ ?”

“I did,” said Sam. “There's an old pile of crates beneath my window. I just stacked them up to make a ladder-staircase thing that I can climb up and down. And 'noped’ is a legitimate word for what I did.”

“What does 'noped’ even mean?” asked Collins. 

“So you know how people back up and say 'nope, I'm out of here's when they're grossed out or scared?” asked Sam. “It's like that. I went, 'nope, I'm out’ and got the hell out of Dodge.”. 

Olivia Carting brought the conversation back on track. “Write the report in Shakespeare for all I care but just get it done.”

They weren’t moving fast enough for me, so I blew some papers off the desk.

Olivia Carting jumped and swore, looking at the cracked door. 

“He has the money to fix that,” Sam said. “He has a damn good job at the bank. Or rather,  _ had _ a good job at the bank. He got fired last week for ‘anger issues’. If had hadn’t taken it out on me, it might have been the funniest moment of my life.” 

Collins looked rather horrified. 

Sam saw his expression and backtracked. “That was the last video we saw. I’ve been pretty good at avoidance,” he said. “Oddly enough, I have the same strategy for ga-ga. You know,” he added, “The game where you punch a ball across a floor to hit other people to get them out?”

“Never heard of it,” said Collins, shaking his head. 

“I’ll have to take you some time,” said Sam. “But before my father started being the grade A asshole he is now, I was the champ of ga-ga at my school. I never hit the ball and people ignored me for most of the game. But then, when it was down to the last five or so people still in the ring, they’d start hitting it at me, trying to knock me out. All I did was jump out of the way and let the rebound hit other people. And only when it was just me and some other guy would I hit the ball.”

“That seems overly complicated,” said Collins. 

“On the contrary,” said Sam, smiling. “My greatest achievement was winning a match with only one hit of the ball.”

“I would have paid good money to see his face,” said Collins. “But sadly, before you regale me with tales of your superior ga-ga playing skills, we must first do paperwork. Hopefully, I shall not perish and suffocate under the huge pile that is involved.” Collins swept into a grand bow to Officer Carting, who promptly thunked him upside the head with a clipboard. 

“Ow!”

“Paper. Now.”


End file.
